


A Conversation Long Forgotten

by stjarna



Series: Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week (Sept. 12-18, 2016) [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate continuation, F/M, Feels, Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week, Friendship/Love, I miss Hunter and Bobbi, Love Confessions, Missing Scene, Post - A Spy's Goodbye, Post-Episode: s03e13 Parting Shot, Resolution, Tumblr: thefitzsimmonsnetwork
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-08-14 20:39:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 2,747
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8028157
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Losing two friends sure gets you thinking!Alternate continuation / Missing scene after “A Spy’s Goodbye”





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Notes: Written for Day 2 (Favorite Features* || Writing Prompt: Resolution) of Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week Sept. 12-18, 2016 (organized by The Fitzsimmons Network)

res·o·lu·tion, _noun_

  1. A firm decision to do or not to do something.
  2. The action of solving a problem, dispute, or contentious matter.




	2. A Conversation Long Forgotten

The engines of the quinjet appear to be the only source of sound. Nobody has spoken a word since they’ve left the bar, since they’ve said their quiet good-byes to their two colleagues and friends, who had sacrificed themselves to protect S.H.I.E.L.D. Coulson had joined May in the cockpit; Mack, Daisy, Fitz, and Simmons were sitting in the back.

Jemma’s eyes wander from person to person. Daisy is sitting next to her, staring at Mack. _Probably trying to figure out how she can help her partner through this difficult time_ , Jemma thinks.

Mack is resting his back against his seat; his head is tilted backwards, his eyes are closed. _He must be taking it the hardest_. _He’s been through so much with them_.

Jemma’s eyes find Fitz, sitting next to Mack. He is slightly hunched over, his arms resting on his thighs, staring at his hands, his fingers absentmindedly playing with each other. _He always does this when he’s anxious or upset_ , she thinks, _It’s the engineer in him. Working with his hands calms him. When his hands are idle, he gets nervous more easily._ She had noticed that this tendency had increased after his brain injury. Jemma keeps watching Fitz for a while. A smile brightens her face.

Then she turns her head away and looks straight ahead. Her eyes glaze over and her mind takes her different places, back to Hunter and Bobbi, back to them sitting next to each other in the bar, only themselves to rely on from now on, outlaws, no longer able to count on S.H.I.E.L.D. for backup. Yet, they had looked happy somehow, confident that they made the right choice. The scene triggers another memory. Like a trailer for a movie, Jemma sees bits and pieces of a conversation with Bobbi in front of her inner eye, a conversation she had almost forgotten.

 

_“So how long were you two a thing?”_

_“A thing? Fitz and I? No. … I mean, we never. … I-I never dreamed.”_

_…_

_“I never thought of him as anything else. … That said, I can’t imagine my life without him. … It's all very confusing.”_

_…_

_“I wish I could give you some advice, but I've never been friends with a guy first. …. It's always been a roller coaster. …”_

_“But is the ride worth it?”_

_“I'll let you know when it's over.”_

 

Jemma’s mind returns to reality. She inhales sharply. Her heart is racing. She looks back at Fitz. _I’ll let you know when it’s over._ She smiles realizing that today Bobbi had answered her question. Jemma’s heartbeat slows down and her breathing becomes more regular again. She has made up her mind.


	3. Letting go

Back at the base, everyone heads straight for their quarters silently, no goodnights spoken.

Jemma takes a shower before heading to bed, thinking maybe the warm water will wash away some of the sadness over losing her two friends. She lies down and closes her eyes, but sleep doesn’t find her. She tosses and turns, her mind working overtime. Finally, she sits up in bed. It can’t wait any longer. It can’t wait until the next day.

She gets up and walks to her desk. She pulls out her tablet, turns it on, and goes to her image gallery: the photo of Will and her. She lets her fingers glide over his face and smiles. “I’m sorry, Will,” she says quietly but audibly, even though she is alone in her room, “It’s time to let you go. I know you’ll understand. You’ve always known that… well, you said yourself that he was more than a friend.”

She pauses.

“I loved you, Will. I did, but, … you know what we had was different. It’s time for me to say good-bye. He has to know. He _has_ to know the truth. It can’t wait.”

She smiles at Will’s picture, “I’ll never forget you. I’ll never forget what you did for me. I wouldn’t be alive if it wasn’t for you. And I feel so terribly guilty that I’m the reason you’re not. But I can’t continue to allow guilt to be my excuse for not letting my heart have what it longs for.”

Tears rush to her eyes as she whispers, “Thank you, Will, thank you for everything.”

She turns off the tablet and puts it down on her desk. She can hear her own heartbeat. It feels like her heart is about to jump out of her chest. She closes her eyes and inhales slowly. She holds her breath, then exhales, and opens her eyes. She sees her own reflection in a framed image above her desk. “Go, Jemma,” she encourages herself, “Go _now_!”


	4. Now...

She stands in front of his door. Frozen to the spot. The courage she had felt earlier has disappeared. She stares at the door, wishing she would have grabbed one of their ‘magic window’ sheets to look through it and see what he is doing inside. Is he sleeping? Is he awake? She’s cursing herself silently, _Knock, for crying out loud, knock. What are you waiting for? You said yourself it can’t wait. You couldn’t sleep. You have to do it now. Do it. Now. Just knock. **Knock!** _ A quiet but forceful “Ugh!” escapes her lips. She tenses every muscle in her body, then forces them to relax for a moment. Her hand forms a fist so tight that her knuckles turn white. She closes her eyes and slowly raises her arm. She’s breathing quickly. She opens her eyes. _Now, Simmons!_

She knocks.

“Fitz? It’s me,” she says loud enough for it to be audible behind the closed door. Her voice is shaking.

Only a moment passes before she hears noises from inside: someone getting up from a chair, walking towards the door. She sighs, relieved that he must have been still awake. The door opens and Fitz appears in front of her. He holds on to the door and looks at her, “Everything alright, Jemma?” he asks concerned.

She looks at him, her fist still clenched, knuckles still white, breathing heavily, her voice lost as if someone had pressed the mute button on her.

“Jemma?” Fitz asks again.

 _Now_ , her inner voice screams at her, **_Now!_**

“I love you, Fitz,” she finally says and the four words allow her to let everything that has been running through her mind flow freely to the surface, as if a vault that has been locked for years had been opened. “I love you,” she repeats, determined to speak fast enough that he will have to listen without a chance to interrupt, “I want to be with you. I know you’re afraid of being a second choice, because of Will. And yes, I said that I loved him, and I did, but my love for him was so different. … When the bottle I wanted to send to you through the portal crashed against the edge of the cliff and shattered into a million pieces, the last bit of hope that I still had about ever seeing you again shattered right there with it. Will was _all_ there was left. Will was the _only_ good thing left in my world. I allowed myself to fall in love with Will when I had lost _all_ hope of returning home. It was almost like a necessity, something to give me hope and strength to survive. … And I feel so guilty, Fitz. I feel _so_ guilty, because I messed up what we could have had before it even began. I feel guilty because I gave up on you when you _never_ gave up on me. Yes, I loved Will, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t love you, Fitz. What we have is so completely different, so much deeper than what Will and I had. You have to believe me, Fitz. You’re _not_ a second choice. You _never_ were a second choice. There was never a choice to make. It was _always_ you. I just needed time to realize it. More time than you. … And I know, I said I wanted to start over as friends, and here I am asking for the opposite, and now you probably worry that I might change my mind over and over again, but I won’t, Fitz. _I won’t_. I _know_ what I want. I’ve known for a long time. Maveth got in the way. … What happened with Bobbi and Hunter, when Ward held Bobbi hostage opened my eyes to my feelings for you the first time around, and what happened with Bobbi and Hunter _now_ made me realize that I don’t _want_ to wait any longer. I _can’t_ wait any longer. I don’t _want_ to waste any more time. I know I said I wanted to start over, but the truth is, I want to _start_ , I want to move _forward_. I _love_ you and I want to _be_ with you and I want to find out what the future holds for us. I want a start, a _beginning_!” She stops. Everything she wanted to say has been said. She looks at him. Her eyes are pleading with him to say something.

“Is it my turn now?” he asks calmly after the silence following her speech has settled. She nods.

“You’re right,” he begins, and his tone and the fear of what he might say is making her shiver. “You’re right about everything. I _am_ afraid of being your second choice.” She opens her mouth to say something in return, but his eyes are begging her to let him finish, “I _am_ afraid that you’ll change your mind. I am _afraid_ of losing you again. I love you, Jemma. You _know_ I love you! And I can’t imagine that there’ll ever be a time when I won’t.” He pauses, “But now it’s on me to ask for more time. I can’t do this right now, Jemma. I can’t. I need time.”

Her lips tremble and she’s holding back tears. But she nods and forces herself to smile, “Of course. I understand.”

“Good night, Jemma,” he says softly.

Her voice is shaking when she whispers her reply, a quiet “Good night.”

He closes the door in front of her. For a moment all she can do is stare at it. Then she turns around and tries to leave, but her body is overcome with emotions. Every muscle in her body begins to tremble, her throat seems to be closing up, tears rush to her eyes, and begin to stream down her face uncontrollably. She tries to steady herself, puts her hand against the wall for support, but her body won’t listen to her any longer. She leans her back against the wall next to Fitz’s door, hyperventilating, and glides down until she sits on the floor. She hugs her knees and sobs.


	5. A little time...

His hand is still holding on to the doorknob. He stares into empty space, while his mind processes what just happened. He exhales sharply. He wishes he could have embraced what she told him, but he couldn’t. Not now. Not yet. He hears a noise outside the door: the sound of a body rubbing against a stonewall. Then he hears her crying. He pauses for a moment. Tears fill his eyes. His heart feels like a fist is clenching down on it. He didn’t mean to hurt her. He loved her. Sometimes more than his heart could take. But it was too soon for him. _She_ may have been the one to ask to start over, but _he_ needed it as well. The sobbing outside his door continues. He didn’t mean to hurt her. Slowly he opens the door and steps outside.

She looks up at him, deer-in-headlights eyes, and quickly wipes away her tears. “I’m sorry,” she mumbles, “I tried to leave, I was about to, but I… couldn’t. … I couldn’t.” She shrugs apologetically.

He looks at her calmly. She rolls her eyes and he can see that she is struggling to hold back more tears, tears and anger.

“I feel like such an idiot,” she says visibly frustrated, “I’m a selfish idiot for showing up here in the middle of the night and somehow expecting you to forgive me and to simply forget everything that has happened.”

He sighs. Then a smile appears on his lips and he extends his hand. She looks at him questioningly. He continues to smile and encouragingly nods at his hand. She slowly reaches for it and allows him to pull her up until she is standing right in front of him.

“I’m sorry, Fitz,” she says quietly, “I’m sorry to bother you with all of this tonight.”

He wipes away a tear that’s slowly gliding down her cheek and cups her face with his hands. “Don’t be,” he says softly and kisses her gently. He holds her face in his hands and keeps his eyes closed. Their foreheads are touching and his lips are so close to hers that he can almost feel them while he speaks, “I _want_ to be with you, Jemma. I do… But, please, give me time. Just a _little_ time.”

He pulls away ever so slightly and looks at her. Slowly she opens her eyes, and a smile flashes across her face, “I will,” she replies.

He kisses her again, his lips softly pressing against hers, like clouds brushing against each other. “I love you,” he whispers against her lips and can feel how the soft touch of his breath makes her shiver. He pulls away again and they smile at each other for a moment.

He wipes away another tear that escapes her tired eyes and asks, “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”

She closes her eyes and shakes her head, “Oh Gosh. Such a fucked up day.”

He snickers. She opens her eyes abruptly and looks at him surprised. “Ugh, I don’t think I’ve _ever_ said that before,” she comments and laughs herself.

He takes a deep breath and looks up to the ceiling for a moment, before gazing back into her eyes. He tucks a strand of hair behind her ear and replies, “You’re right though. It’s been a fucked up day.”

He pauses.

“I could use some company,” he admits.

“A friend?” Jemma asks, smiling, still tears in her eyes.

He strokes her cheek with his thumb. “A best friend,” he says softly.

She nods, “Me too.”

He kisses her again, just a simple soft peck on the lips. Then he takes her hand and their fingers intertwine as he leads her into his room.


	6. Comfort

They are sitting on Fitz’s bed. Jemma is leaning against the head of the bed while Fitz is sitting in the middle, facing her. He has pulled out his secret stack of chocolate. They’re talking about Bobbi and Hunter, exchanging their favorite stories; one story after the other. Most of them are funny. They are laughing so hard it brings tears to their eyes. Then the laughter suddenly subsides. Jemma’s face becomes dark, serious, thoughtful.

“I will miss them,” she says sadly.

Fitz sighs, “Me too. Won’t be the same around here.”

She smiles shyly at him, “We have each other though, right?”

He smiles, and moves from the middle of the bed to sit right next to her. He grabs her hand and squeezes it gently. “That we do,” he replies.

She smiles but can’t suppress a big yawn.

“I should go back to my room,” she says and tries to pull away her hand. But Fitz holds on to it and whispers, “Stay!”

“What?”

“Stay here.”

She looks at him with questioning eyes, “You sure?”

He shifts his position so he can look into her eyes more directly.

“Stay here. Nothing more.”

She smiles, “I’d love that.”

Slowly, they both move from a sitting to a lying position and face each other. His hand rests between their two bodies, and Jemma places hers over his. She pulls herself closer and whispers, “I love you, Fitz!”

He smiles.

“Thank you!” is all he manages to reply.

She reaches for his faces and gently strokes his cheek, “A bit more time,” she says quietly, reassuringly.

He grabs her hand and presses it more firmly against his cheek, “Just a little bit,” he whispers.

They smile and let the silence of the room lull them to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will admit. I did not write this fanfic specifically for Fitzsimmons Appreciation Week, but it seemed to fit the writing prompt (Resolution) so well and it was so close to being done that I'm using this opportunity to post it.


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